u 



SERMON 



ON THE 



PREMATURE AND LAMENTED 



DEATH 



OP 



(general %\viiwxm J^amiiton. 



BY JOHN MCDONALD, A. M. 



PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 




ALBANY: 



PRINTED BY JOHN BARBER, FAUSTs STATUE, 
STATE-STREET. 



1804. 



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A SERMON. 



II. SAMUEL, III. 33, 34. 

' And the king lamented over Jbner, and said, died JBner as afoot 
dieth? 

. Thy hands were not bound, nor thy feet in fetters : as a manfalU 
tth before v:icked men, so fullest thou. And all the iieojile wept 
again over him. 

J- HESE words express the grief and regret of a 
prince and a nation, overwhelmed with indigna- 
tion and sorrow, on the unmerited and untimely 
death of a brave soldier and an able statesman. 
Abner held the first place both in the camp and 
pouncil of Saul the first king of Israel,^ and dis- 
charged his duty v/ith fidelity and affection. Af;- 
ter the death of that ill-fated prince, on the rent of 
his kingdom, Abner still adhered to the interests 
of his family,, and by his counsel and courage sup- 
ported for some time the throne of Mephihoshcth^ 
his feeble and irresolute successor. But weak 
rulers can neither estimate nor long secure the 
respect and service of superior merit. 7 '3 

From presuming indiscretion in the oificer, and 
from unseasonable and ill conducted reproof in the 
king, an irreparable breach was made 'in their 
mutual confidence and friendship. The breach 
was producedby human weakness and wickedness, 
but Providence overruled! th^ whole for the ac- 
complishment of his decree iii.the full establish}, 
jnent of David in the throne of the house of Jacob. 



1*1 

It is probable, that his master's incapacity to 
rule a free and flourishing people, excited that 
contempt in Abner which produced his offence, 
and that a conviction of David's being eminently 
qualified for government, urged him, under his 
wounded pride, to make an offer of his services 
and his influence to that generous and discerning 
competitor. 

A favorable opportunity for disclosing his views 
to David, soon occurred, by whom he was receiv- 
ed with a candor and cordiality which great minds 
never fail to express for real merit, even in their 
most formidable adversaries. 

At that time Joab, a relation of David, en- 
joyed the highest ofiice in his government. He 
was a man of considerable talents and zeal ; but 
suspicious, imperious and vindictive. No sooner 
had the report of xVbner's interview with David 
reached his ears, than his jealousy and fears filled 
him with fury. To extinguish his fear in the 
blood of a rival whom he dreaded, he united mean 
artifice with daring violence. Soliciting an inter- 
view, under the sacred professions of friendship, 
while the accents of affection sounded on his 
tongue, he, with premeditated aim, plunged the 
fatal instrument into the bowels of the unsuspect- 
ing Abner. 

The news of this atrocious and regal insulting 
crime, was circulated and received with universal 
sensations of horror. The two factions into which 
the posterity of Israel had been unhappily divid- 
ed, forgetting their animosities, instinctively uni- 
ted in expressing their regret for the death of a 
worthy man, and their abhorrence of the base and 
deliberate assassin. 



C « ] 

David, on all occasions remarkable for his sen- 
sibility, appeared mortified at the insult and in- 
consolable for the loss. His circumstances ren- 
dered it dangerous for him to resent the oflence by 
the punishment of the oifender. Such a measure 
might have endangered his crown, and the lives of 
thousands ; but under the impulse of the spirit of 
prophecy he denounced that divine vengeance 
which in due time overtook this bloody man. All 
that he could now do for the illustrious dead he 
hastened to perform. He ordered an honorable 
burial, and invited all Israel, with Joab also, to 
join with him in the funeral lamentation. The 
king, eminently fitted by his poetic gifts for the 
delicate office, undertook to give expression to his 
own and the nation's grief on that occasion. The 
passage which we have now read, has preserved an 
admirable specimen of the oration, marked with 
the pathos and spirit peculiar to oriental elegy. 

The selection of this passage, we trust, will ap- 
pear both applicable and appropriate to our medi- 
tation this morning, who, in imitation of the peo- 
ple of the Lord, have been requested by our fel- 
low-citizens to express in a religious manner, our 
esteem for the merits, our sorrow for the loss, and 
our detestation of the manner of the death of a 
man, in the meridian of life and usefulness, whose 
hervices have been greater to the American nation 
than ever Abner's were to Israel, and to whom, for 
splendor of talents and benevolence of heart, his 
country has never found a superior. 

Adhering then to the spirit of the passage, and 
observing the form of the sermon, let us — 

1. Consider m what state the fool diethj that 
we may evince that the man whose death we de- 
plore died not as he dieth. 



[ 6 ] 

2d. Attencl" to some of the many reflectio. 
which this mournful and frowning dispensation 
excites. 

*' Died Abner as a fool dieth !" exclaimed the 
royal mourner in the text, and all the people unit- 
ed in the exclamation. By this animated form of 
expression, instead of indulging suspicion or 
doubt, he intended, in the spirit and genius of the 
Hebrew language, to deny with abhorrence the 
question he asks. Examples of the same kind 
abound both in the Old and New Testament. Jo- 
seph, on a memorable occasion, to discover his 
horror and detestation of the sin to which he was 
solicited, cries, " How shall I do this great wick- 
edness and sin against God !" In the New Tes- 
tament, when the Apostle Paul, with his usual 
warmth on subjects dear to his heart, vindicates 
the doctrine of grace from encouraging licentious- 
ness, he asks, with indignation at the very thought, 
** Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound ? 
Perish the thought !" 

Fool^ in the writings of David and Solomon, is 
employed more frequently to express the charac- 
ter of the impious and the immoral man, than of 
him who is void of understanding in the affairs of 
life. It is the fool, says the former, that says in 
his heart, "There is no God." " Fools," says 
the other, *' make a mock at sin." The native 
fruits of foolishness like theirs are violent and un- 
timely deaths from the hands of society and the 
hand of heaven. To use the simile in the text, 
such folly tv^ists the cords by which the fool is 
bound, and forges fetters for his feet. 

The death of Abner in its violence resembleth 
the death of the wicked. But he fell not by his 



[ 7 ] 

own wickedness, but by the crime'of a restless and 
ambitious fool. On his devoted head the cen^ 
sure and the guilt rests and will for ever rest. — 
In the same manner, the death of Hamilton, 
though unhappily stained by excessive care to 
preserve his life from reproach and even from 
suspicion, leaves in the conviction of every man 
of discernment the charge of folly on his unre- 
lenting and too successful enemy. For let me 
ask you — 

Could he die as a fool dieth, who with the most 
brilliant talents, performed the most important 
services to his country, and who seemed to live 
for her good ? Could he die as a fool dieth, against 
whom neither his own citizens nor strangers — 
against whom neither friend nor relative have ever 
brought censure or charge of weakness or wick- 
edness ? Could he die as a fool dieth, who with 
miost engaging manners discharged every duty 
civil and domestic with scrupulous honour, with 
conscientious fidelity ? Could he die as a fool dieth, 
who, when in the most trying scenes, when either 
his honour or his life was demanded for what he 
viewed as his duty, uttered neither murmur nor 
complaint against his enemy, himself, or his God ? 
Could he die as a fool dieth, who immersed in 
business and care sought an acquaintance with 
God — who with the humility of a convinced sin- 
ner, clung to the cross, and met death with the 
firmness, the faith, the liope of the Christian? I 
listen — You are silent. But in every countenance, 
I read, *' His life, his death, was like that of the 
righteous:" we trust he is now with them. But 
ive observe — 



[ 8 ] 

1. That the fool dieth v;ithout leaving memo- 
rials of his virtues and of his labours to cherish 
his remembrance in the heart of survivors. 

Every man is introduced into this world by his 
Creator, to improve his nature, to honour God, 
and to promote the happiness of mankind. For 
this purpose he is entrusted with mental, moral 
and corporal qualities, wisely adapted to his cir- 
cumstances in life. There is a certain period 
during which he is commanded to occupy them, 
that he may be able to render an account with joy 
in the Divine approbation. He who acts with 
diligence and fidelity dies as a wise and righteous 
man : he who abuses his talents, or neglects to im- 
prove them, is declared by God to die the death 
of the wicked, and that he shall have his lot with 
them. 

Few men have received from God talents more 
distinguished and diversified than the man whom 
we this day mourn : Few men, within the nar- 
row limits oiforty.eigbt years, have ever employ- 
ed their talents in pursuits of equal importance and 
magnitude, or completed them with such approba- 
tion and unsullied success. 

Formed by such endowments for war and for 
peace, for the' studies of retirement and the labours 
of political life, in public deliberation unawed and 
unassuming, in private and domestic scenes, easy, 
instructive and affable ; providence, without any 
previous arrangement of his own, introduced him 
on a theatre peculiarly fitted for calling them into 
action and giving them full display. 

In the early bloom of life, he repaired from his 
native Isle, to complete the rudiments of science 
in th? College of New- York. He had hardly seat- 



L 9 ] 

cd himself in this retreat when the cry of dreaded 
oppression and the trumpet of liberty, arrested his 
attention, awakened his sympathy, and roused to 
martial enterprize his generous soul. 

The ardour, the genius and modesty of the 
young soldier, soon attracted the discerning eye 
xii JVashington, who, proud of the acquisition, en- .' 
rolled him among his chosen worthies. From that / 
hour to the latest in his life he never failed to ex- 
ult in his choice, and the last request to the exe- 
cutive of his country was, to have Hamilton as- 
sociated with him in the honourable appointment 
in which he closed a life of ennobled patriotism 
and never dying fame. Alas ! once united with- 
out jealousy or distrust in the service of their 
country, they are now united in death, too soon 
we fear for our prosperity and security. — But their 
memories shall be embalmed with lasting admira- 
tion and respect ! 

His military career in the Revolution, terminat- 
ed in the last struggle of Britain on the surrender 
of the brave Cornwallis and the capture of his 
army. The page of American and even English 
History will ever preserve the memory of his gal- 
lant and successful exertions on that day, when 
entrusted with a perilous charge, the post of his 
own solicitation. Humanity will never cease to 
triumph in a courage as inflexibly resolute in 
sparing the conquered as in pressing the conquest. 
His authority, his influence, his sword, which ir- 
resistibly carried terror and death while opposi- 
tion lasted, were instantly raised in defence of the 
yielding— deaf to the wishes and arguments of ex- 
asperated advisers. Wives and mothers have long 

B 



C 10 ] 

implored blessings for the Hero, and continue, I 
Ooubt not, to weep for the cruel destiny of hira 
whose arm and heart preserved to them all that 
rendered life desirable. On this day, victims sa- 
ved, and u^itnesses of their salvation, live to pro- 
claim his disinterested interposition. 

With peace he returned to the pursuits and ha- 
bits of civil life ; but never abandoned his soli- 
citude for tlie prosperity of the people which he 
had contributed to emancipate. As a citizen of 
this state, his services in her Legislature were 
of the most important nature. To mention no 
other, the plan on which o^ir colleges, our acade- 
mics and the board of regents are established, 
owed, in a great measure, its origin and comple- 
tion to his patriotic and persevering exertions. 

Soon after the peace, he perceived with others 
of our enlightened patriots, that the bond of con- 
federation which was sufficient in the hour of 
common danger to unice the strength and restrain 
the encroachments of states and individuals^ 
could neither afford public security nor energy in 
seasons of tranquillity and peace, nor extend its 
influence with extending connexions. By his 
conversation, by his influence, and by his argu- 
ments, especially in the Congress of our nation, 
lie never ceased to mark the danger and to urge 
the necessity of an alteration in the American 
charter. The situation of public affairs made, 
the public listen to such admonitions. A con- 
vention was chosen to suggest and propose what 
amendments were necessary. Selected as a de- 
legate by this state, he by his genius aided in 
framing our present admired constitution, and by 
his moderation and concessions promoted its coii*- 



C 11 ] 

pletion. By his firmness and perseverance, when 
deserted by his colleagues, he kept his station 
till he subscribed the instrument alone in be- 
half of the citizens of New-York. That hand 
that fought to acquire, that signed to secure, lies 
now withering in the tomb t 

On the appearance of this unexpected charter, 
the admiration, the suspicion and the opposition 
of our nation were, in different persons, for vari- 
ous reasons, strongly excited. Every; tongue 
that could harrangue and every pen that could 
write, were employed in exaggerated encomium, 
or in relentless execration, Publhis^ alarmed for 
the fate of the fairest and most friendly of Ame- 
rican productions, stepped forth boldly in her de- 
fence. He marked her beauties, he corrected 
misrepresentation, and endeared the stranger to 
every judicious and discerning eye. Publius, in 
his Federalist, has bequeathed an inestimable trea^ 
sure to the political world, while he eminently- 
contributed to the adoption of the constitution, 
Hamilton claims the better part of what i'^wZ'- 
iius subscribed. 

On the adoption of the Federal Constitution ^ 
IVashington^ by the unanimous voice of his coun- 
try, was called to preside in the Government. — 
Hamilton was called by his admired Patron, 
from domestic leisure and a lucrative and respect- 
ful seat at the bar, to give System to the Board of 
Treasury, the most important and diflicult de- 
partment in the State, With generous patriotism 
he obeyed the call and undertook this Herculean 
labour. All was disorder. Under his creative 
and discriminating genius, form, beauty, motion 
■&nd energy were impressed on subjects the most 



[ 12 ] 

abstruse, and on materials apparently incapable of 
activity and union. In the face of opposition and 
prejudice, amidst the clamours of ignorance and 
selfishness, with immense labour, and with appa- 
rent ease, he recalled and established public and 
private credit; he created a national revenue; he 
provided for the claims of the patriot and soldier; 
he infused principles of life into our commerce, 
our agriculture and our manufactures. 

Engaged in digesting those measures and form- 
ing those reports which have extorted admiration 
from the most reluctant, he in great measure de- 
nied himself the enjoyment of social pleasures, in 
which he delighted and gave delight ; he wasted the 
small property which he had by honourable indus- 
try acquired ; he impaired his health, so that 
snowy ornaments of age began to clothe his tem- 
ples, while the roses of youth had scarcely been 
forced from his cheek. 

Having finished monuments more precious 
and we trust more durable than marble, he with- 
drew to the pursuits of private life : — He with- 
drew amidst the regrets of all whose regrets are 
an honourable tribute ; amidst the cruel insinua- 
tions of those who fattened on his toils, as if by 
speculation he had privately amassed a princely 
fortune ! Betrayers of your own grovelling dispo- 
sitions ; strangers to the trembling delicacy of 
honour that inhabited his breast, examine his 
estate, attend to his family provision, read his 
will, and in blushing tears endeavor to blot out 
the injury offered to innocence ! 

When he retired from the Treasury he formed 
•and expressed the determination, never, unless in 
cases of extremity, to accept of any public em- 



[ 13 ] 

ployment. But in his zeal for the public good, he 
seemed rather to have resigned the emoluments 
than the cares of his country. It was in the faith- 
ful and vigorous expressions of patriotism, that he 
procured the secret, the settled and bitter hatred 
of some weak and capricious leaders, and the im- 
placable rage of a restless and ambitious man 
whose mask could never conceal from his pene- 
trating eye the forbidding visage which it slightly 
covered. The wound that he inflicted on danger- 
ous men, O America 1 was in thy defence. For 
you he was insulted and braved, for you he, (the 
only injury that he ever offered you,) for you he 
fell, he bled, he died ! 

Thus lived, thus died, the friend of us all. Let 
your own hearts say, whether this man died as a 
fool dieth ! But I observe — 

2d. That the fool dieth unlamented, as a lawful 
victim to injured society, or to insulted heaven. 

Offence and censure, crime and punishment, are 
intimately connected, both by the decree of God 
and in the convictions of all mankind. The guil- 
ty soul, always under secret fear, flies when no 
man pursucth, and its flight generally terminates 
in ruin. Those who witness the calamities of the 
criminal, cannot refrain adopting the expression of 
the wretch on the cross — " This man is condemn- 
ed justly, and receives the reward of his deeds !" 

We have briefly glanced at some of the public 
services of the man whose loss wrings our souls 
with anguish ; let us now search for the crimes that 
merited such a cruel fate, let us listen to his ac- 
cusers. We examine the records of society — his 
name sullies not a line. We survey his character — 
but on this no mark of the baleful tooth of faction. 



[ 1* ] 

no stain from the tongue of slander, can we dis- 
cover. We listen to the cry of the oppressed, the 
injured, the disappointed ; among all the long list 
which they denounce, the name of this man cannot 
be heard. What then mean the distress which 
every countenance discovers ; the broken sighs, 
and even the rolling tears, which cannot be con- 
cealed — these — these all, are for the cruel injuries 
that he hath received. 

He has been long intimately known in all our 
states, and by the most discerning men who in- 
habit them. He has filled important stations 
where temptation prevailed, and from which vio- 
lent suspicions and public clamors have even driven 
some. Their life and their death, their country 
seem to have regarded but little. With what sen- 
sations has his death been heard in every corner 
and among every description ? With such sensa- 
tions as mothers feel when cruelly bereft of the 
sons who had become their ornament ! 

In every place the wounding intelligence of his 
death has been received with consternation, with 
indignation, Avith horror. Whole cities have as- 
sembled to consult on the most becoming method 
of expressing their grief, and offering some tribute 
of respect to his memory. Societies of various 
kinds, military, scx^ial, literary and religious, have 
also met and agreed to join, on some peculiar 
ground, in the universal mourning. Is there a city, 
a society, an individual who has pleaded one sin- 
gle offence in his life to excuse them from min- 
gling their tears with others on the sad occasion. 
Our streets are crouded with those who carry 
badges of mourning, because the first of their fel- 
low-citizens has sunk in blood into the house 



[ IS ] 

appointed for all living. I hear America herself 
exclaim — " Many of my sons have done well, but 
" thou hast excelled them all!" 

His profession was law, an employment expo- 
sed to much censure and much suspicion : Yet, 
with an extensive practice and high reputation, he 
procured neither enmity nor complaint from the 
bench, the bar or the litigants. Every judge, with 
undissembled grief, mourns his loss, and bears 
testimony to his industry, his integrity, his decent 
and conciliating address. Every lawyer, distin- 
guished or obscure, who either opposed or stood 
on his side, has uniformly expressed the respect 
of his heart for his superlative genius, and for its 
faithful application. On a recent trial, in a croud- 
ed court, a counsel in opposition, fixing his eye 
and drawing the eyes of all present on him, hap- 
pily and justly exclaimed — *' If ever a man walk- 
*' ed through life with a window in his heart, that 
" is the man !" 

Among his numerous clients many committed 
to him the defence of their fortunes, their fame, 
their liberty and their lives : Never have we heard 
a whisper of censure on his capacity, his neglect 
of preparation, or his exertion. 

Even from those whom he warmly and success- 
fully opposed, Vv^e hear no charge of injury or in- 
sult. The illiberal practice of pouring invective, 
ridicule and abuse on witnesses or Opponents, his 
soul detested. It is a species of defence which 
no virtuous counsel will employ, because of its 
inhumanity ; and to which no able counsel will 
recur on account of its vulgarity. Law, fact, ar- 
gument, eloquence, were the only weapons that he 
wielded. Even when circumstances, and subjects- 



[ 16 ] 

clemanded chastisement and exposure, his delicate 
satire was the effusion of benevolent resentment. 
It excited the conscious blush of demerit, rather 
than its resentment or hatred. Who has been 
wounded that does not this day mourn ! 

As a Statesman his political opponents were 
rumerous and determined. He often excited their 
fears and provoked their animadversions; but he 
never forfeited their confidence nor lost their 
esteem. His views they denounced as erroneous, 
but they admitted that his heart was sincere and 
his intentions upright. 

The late mayor of this city, much acquainted 
with him, and uniformly opposed — a man whose 
integrity, whose candour, and whose attachment, I 
shall never cease to remember and respect, has of- 
ten exclaimed — " Hamilton is always generous 
*' — always decided ! To carry his fondest mea- 
*' sures I never knew him disguise his intentions 
*' or deny their consequences. On his word I could 
*' rely equally as his oath." Then in the spirit of 
party he would add, *' I am tempted to exclaim, 
*' Curse on his 'virtues, I fear tbey will enthral his 
" country.^' 

As a friend, his friends were numerous and dis- 
cerning : Yet none of them charge him with act- 
ing unfriendly. — Has he by his imprudence lost 
one ? Have those whom he retained charged him 
with coldness or with inconstancy ? Have they 
ever called in question the soundness of his judg- 
ment or the sincerity of his heart ? In proportion 
to their intimacy was their love, was their re- 
spect. Even habitual familiarity instead of con- 
tempt produced veneration. 

Shall I ask his relations, whether, while mild 
and benevolent to others, he was indifferent or ty- 



[17 ] 

rannical to them. The anguish of a mourning wi- 
dow, and the pathetic manner in whicii she be- 
wails her loss, connected with the last scenes of 
his life, proclaim him an husband indulgent and 
discreet, respectful and affectionate. His nume- 
rous and promising family, confounded and dis- 
consolate with the stroke that has torn from their 
embrace the kindest and most engaging of parents, 
at a time when they were just beginning to profit 
by his instructions, and to admire the charms of 
his conversation and the benevolence of his heart, 
will never cease to testify their sense of his pa- 
ternal tenderness, and the affectionate manner ia 
which they have been educated. The venerable 
and afflicted father of his wife, loaded with dis- 
ease and still bleeding by wounds, from the death 
of other objects very dear, seems to forget other 
distresses in this overwhelming calamity. 

Thus, on examination, we find, that neither in 
public nor in private life ; neither from friend nor 
from opponent, the smallest charge, the slightest 
censure is heard. His hands were not bound by 
a guilty conscience, his feet were not put in fetters 
by the decrees of justice. 

The envy of a fool begat malice — disappointed 
ambition rendered it desperate — desperation, en- 
couraged by unprincipled associates, urged to the 
Heaven daring deed ! And, in accomplishing his 
death, they have dug a grave, to receive their own 
blasted fame, their own polluted memories. 

3dly. But the fool dieth without arranging his 
affairs, regardless of the effects on his family and 
on society. 

^ Every man, not entirely an outcast of man- 
jkind, has connexions, on whose interest or hap- 
piness his death must have some influence. H© 



t 18 J 

who is not both ungenerous and insensible will; 
in the prospect of death, settle with the world, and 
set his house in order. 

This sentiment had remarkable authority over 
the views and conduct of the magnanimous cha- 
racter whom we now lament. In the last hours of 
his life, like a father entering on a long and peril- 
ous journey, he leaves nothing unadjusted, none 
without a charge. 

His unfeeling and insulting antagonist, either 
void of reflection, or with cruel and premeditated 
design, began his correspondence on the eve or 
during the term of a court in which several suit& 
of considerable importance pended, and in which 
he was engaged. When all just explanation was 
refused, and every honourable accommodation was 
rejected, he agreed (the only step in his life we 
cannot defend) to the bloody invitation. I hear 
hini express himself on accepting it thus : — 

*^ 1 am retained and employed by several clients 
** in cases to them of great magnitude. On my 
** counsel and exertion in their progress and is- 
" sue, their claims are previous to what you urge. 
*' Justice, honour, demand, that in this critical si- 
** tuation I discharge in the first place my obliga- 
** tions to them with attention and fidelity. To 
** have a client's complaints or his tears mingling 
** with my blood I cannot endure. 

*' I owe to my friends, to my country, and to 
*' the world, an exposure of my situation, an ex- 
" planation of my motives. Against them I have 
** no complaint ; I have no reason to doubt of their 
*' respect. To withdraw myself from their society 
" and from the society of mankind, arises neither 
" from disgust, from disappointment, nor from en- 
** mity to any man. To expose my life in single 



E 19 ] 

^^ combat, my conscience condemns. From seek- 
^' ing the blood of any man in this way my heart 
*' and my hand are equally averse. My antagonist 
*' requires the sacrifice of my truth — my ho- 
^'nour; or the opportunity of taking my life. I 
*' will submit my situation and sentiments — Let 
*' the world judge. 

*' I have creditors also, who have a claim on 
*' my honour for a faithful reimbursement of what 
*' I am indebted to them. I must examine and 
*' arrange my property in such a manner that they 
'* may neither, if possible, suffer either in pay- 
*' ment or by delay. I require some time to lay 
*' the plan, and to select and authorize proper per- 
*' sons for its execution. 

*' I have a wife whose merits I cannot estimate 
*' too highly, and several children that are dear to 
*' me. My public services have prevented me 
*' from making such provisions for them as aifec* 
*' tion prompted and my duty required. To my 
" wife, if I cannot leave wealth, I must with deli- 
** beration express my affection, and leave her 
'* some soothing expressions of advice— of conso- 
'* lation, 

" I have only two legacies to leave to my chil- 
*' dren. These I must bequeath. To others they 
** may appear singular— to me, they are dear and 
** estimable---to them, I pray and trust they may 
** appear equally valuable. 

*' To their united attention and affeetion I re- 
'* solve to commit, an object to me the most in« 
" valuable on earth, the best of wives, the most 
* ' tender of mothers, 

" Another object united to my honour, the pay- 
** ment of my debts, should my own estate be inad- 
*' equate for their discharge, I determine to devolve 



[ 20 ] 

*' on one, on all, "whenever they are able to extin- 
*' guish them. Had I estates to bequeath, they 
*' should share them : These I have not. — And if I 
*' had, I could neither secure their perpetuity nor 
*' promise them happiness while in their possession! 
** In acceptingand discharging these sacred trusts, 
*' I feel impressed with the conviction, that they 
•' shall inherit their father's enjoyment when with 
*' them, with a satisfaction of heart that adversity 
" cannot tear from them. 

*' I have still subjects of higher importance that 
** will claim my sacred and serious regard. I must 
•' review the nature of my acqaintance with my 
** God ; I must by application to the blood, the 
*' merits, and the intercession of my Redeemer 
*' attempt to settle and extinguish my vast ac- 
*' counts with heaven! I must seek and obtain re- 
*' pentance and mercy from him who is exalted to 
*' give repentance and remission. I must wait till 
•' the next Lord's day pass, that without distrac- 
** tion I may apply, that with renewed exercises 
** of faith I may plead for mercy — for grace.'* 

Such it appears were the reflections of this de- 
voted victim when he accepted and signed the sen- 
tence of his own death : For with the judgment 
seat before him he declared, that he knew that his 
destruction was predetermined. Who now sus- 
pects the accuracy of his judgment ? And who 
laments not over the acceptance, the only foolish 
thing that stains the life and the death of the illus- 
trious dead ! But I remark, 

4thly. That the fool dieth in thoughtless insen- 
sibility, or with indecent murmur and despairing 
remorse, 

Vhe sensualist described by our Saviour, evinces 
that many pass through life in undisturbed ease and 



[ 21 ] 

prosperity, die without apprehension of danger, 
and awaken only to conviction when shrouded in 
destruction. Others, after a life of crime and dissi- 
papation, are aroused by punishment, and urged 
by terror to load their enemies, their accomplices, 
themselves and their God, with bitter upbraiding. 
It was thus that Judas and others terminated a life 
of sin in a death of self-condemnation and self- 
violence. 

In neither of these extremes did the calamity of 
Hamilton issue. Every thing exhibits thought- 
fulness, every thing discovers magnanimity. In- 
sensibility did not enter into the ingredients of his 
character. Whatever subject arrested his notice 
he viewed with accuracy ; in whatever appeared 
important he felt deeply interested. In his last 
days. Death and Eternity occupied much of his 
thoughts and filled him with concern. His time for 
preparation had not been long, and he probably 
felt that it had been but partially improved. His 
family, his connexions, his country, were objects 
to him of much solicitude, and from which he felt 
himself withdrawing with benevolent reluctance. 
Could he have reconciled his stay by any method 
to his own sensations and heart, no separation in 
this way would have taken place. Unhappily for 
himself, for his family and for us, his excellent 
judgment in this respect egregiously failed him. 

But when he finds himself, by imperious 
circumstances, compelled *' to have his hands 
bound and his feet put in fetters,'' he neither utters 
murmur nor appears to feel resentment. 

In all his correspondence on this painful occa- 
sion ; in all his conversations, in his last notes to 
the world, he speaks of his opponent with respect- 
Jul charity. Instead of charging him invidiously 
with base and unjust motives, he attempts to plead 



[ 22 3 

m his extenuation. In every sentence, in every* 
expression, the native dignity and generosity of 
his soul is displayed. In imitation of our Divine 
Redeemer, he seems to implore the mercy of the 
benevolent ruler and judge. Even now methinks 
1 hear from his lips the fervent petition—" Forghc 
him, gracious Jbeaven, he hio%vs not what be seeks.^^ 

In his last remarks — " It is not my design," 
says he, " to fix an odium on him in the case. 
'* He doubtless has heard of animadversions of 
" mine that bore very hard upon him, and it is 
*' probable that as usual they were accompanied 
*' by some falsehoods. He may have supposed 
" himself under the necessity of doing as he has 
** done. I hope the grounds of his proceeding 
*' have been such as ought to satisfy his own con- 
" science. I certainly had strong reasons for 
" what I may have said, though it is possible that 
** in some particulars I may have been influenced 
*' by misconstruction or misrepresentation. It is 
** also my ardent wish that I may have been more 
*' mistaken than I think I have been, and that he, 
" by his future conduct, may shew himself worthy 
** of all confidence and esteem, and prove an orna- 
*' ment and blessing to the country." 

How amiable must have been the temper, how 
charitable the heart, that under his circumstances 
and provocations could have dictated these w^ords I 
How remote his death from that of the censorious 
ibol \ 

Every fool, when entangled in the web of his 
own folly, loads himself with censure. It merits 
our particular attention and admiration, that in all 
his embarrassment an expression of self-con» 
tkmnation or remorse is never heard. He never 
reflects on his zeal, on his candour, or his opposi- 
tiojij as being unnecessary or indiscreet. Instead 



C 2S ] 

of expressing a wish that he had acted otherwise 
than he did, he with modest firmness insinuates 
that without dereliction of principle and patriot- 
ism he could not have been silent. He acknow- 
ledges that his animadversions were severe, but 
that he is conscious of no ill-ivill, distinct from 
political opposition. Rut as it is possible, adds 
he, that I may have injured the man, however con- 
vinced myself that my opinions and declarations 
have been well founded and my conduct commen- 
dable, I resolve, if it please God to give me the 
opportunity, to expose myself without resistance 
€r attempting his hurt, to his fire, that he may have 
time to pause and to reflect. In all this I perceive 
honour untainted and delicate in the extreme. I 
mark the testimony of an approving conscience. 
I find nothing to censure in the illustrious Hero^ 
but submitting to the fetters which an impious 
custom, under the name of honour, has establish- 
ed, in daring contempt of the laws of heaven. 

Folly, beset with the snares of Death, seldom 
feils to arraign Divine Providence, and charge 
God foolishly. Even good Hezekiah himself, 
when threatened with a premature death, indul- 
ges complaint beyond the point of submission, 
in this dignified man we hear no reflection against 
Providence, nor reluctance to meet his fate be* 
yond the reluctance of innocence and benevolence. 
He neither mentions his services nor pleads his 
.e:ood intentions to shew that his lot was severe. — • 
He repines not that he is cut off in the middle oi* 
his days, when his family, his connexions and hi^ 
country needed his services and delighted in them. 
He expresses no unbecoming regret, that he wa* 
about to be torn from the execution of those pious 
and benevolent plans that the honorable and tran- 
fi^-uil evening of his life was opening to his views* 



[ 24 3 

With the resignation and exercises of a Patriarch, 
he adores Providence, and dies exclaiming, " thy 
*' WILL BE DONE !" But wc obscrve in the last 
place — 

5thly. That the fool dieth without soliciting ac- 
quaintance with God, through Jesus the Redeem- 
er, and a preparation for Eternal Rest. 

It is *' the fool who says in his heart there 
is no God," and who, " through the pride of his 
countenance, will not call on him." Whatever 
his reputation among men may be ; whatever his 
acquisitions and improvements, he who has made 
no provision for eternity, till death has overtaken 
him, is declared a fool by him who is constituted 
our example and judge. 

The respectable deceased, whose fate has ex- 
cited our sympathy and still demands the tribute of 
our tears, was born, and educated in his early years, 
in regions where religion has never flourished, nor 
engaged general cultivation. He entered the camp 
while yet a youth, where habits of piety are sel- 
dom acquired — often lost. He mingled with 
French officers — the warm supporters of Ameri- 
can independence — of elegant accomplishments, 
of engaging manners, by whom he was respected 
and caressed ; but all of whom were not only 
strangers to the pure principles of our venerable 
religion, but even infidels by system and fashion. 

It is not improbable, that infidelity, recom- 
mended by sprightliness and wit, might have re- 
ceived his countenance and assent, without much 
examination. Alas, the human heart in its pre- 
sent state, is too proud to embrace the doctrines, 
and too corrupted to relish the precepts of the 
cross ! But so generous was his nature, so nice 
his sense of propriety, that whatever his senti- 
ments were, he never obtruded them to^ the of- 



t 25 ] 

fence of the christian. When he retired from 
the field, he engaged in the study of law, politics 
and legislation, studies that rarely lead to reli- 
gious enquiries and rarely cherish pious affec- 
tions. 

But reflection like his, accompanied with exqui*. 
site sensibility, could not always remain indiffer- 
ent to subjects which reason and reason's disci- 
ples have always considered as equally interesting 
and sublime. 

I have been informed, through a channel that 
excludes doubt, that some years ago, immersed 
in the cares and avocations of his profession and 
family, his attention was awakened to his eternal 
concerns, and that he resolved to sit down and 
examine revelation by its own evidence. He be- 
gan, persisted, and arose from the examination 
under heart-felt conviction of its divine authori- 
ty, and that human salvation could be expected 
only through the blood, the agency and the spirit 
of the Son of God. The closing scene of his 
life, which the hardened infidel cannot coolly re- 
view with undisturbed countenance and heart 
' — which the pious cannot contemplate but with 
gratitude and glowing affection, confirms my in- 
formation. I see the hero and the penitent u- 
iiite ; the father of American eloquence become 
the suppliant of gospel grace. 

The conversation of two clergymen with him 
In his last moments, has been excellently detail- 
ed in a letter from each ; of two clergymen of his 
own choice ; of two clergymen of distinguished 
piety, sensibility and fidelity ; to these I refer all 
•who wish to know the religious exercises of hi^ 
heart when he felt his soul every moment about 
to mount to his judge. 



[ 26 ] 

If an unshaken belief in the word of God as his 
divine charter for human recovery : If the deep^ 
and heart-felt conviction of the destructive and 
condemning demerit of sin : If a loathing sense 
of his own guilt, and especially of his daring pre- 
sumption, in yielding to man the life that God com- 
manded him to guard : If renouncing dependence 
on self, or any other object, except the suffei:- 
ings and obedience of God's son for sinners : If 
casting himself with the chief of sinners, at the 
foot of the cross, and pleading for mercy and par- 
don through grace : If expressing, with peculiar 
ardor his conviction, that Christ must be embraced 
by faith in order to justification : If an anxiousso- 
licitude to seal his faith in all these doctrines, and 
his trust that God had accepted him, by partaking 
of the Lord's supper in remembrance of him : — I 
say, if all these afford satisfactory evidence of his 
piety and trust, let us indulge the hope that Ha- 
milton died as a wise and righteous man dieth, 
though he died in wicked rencounter by the wick- 
ed demand of a wicked man. 

We come now — 

XL To offer some of the numerous reflections 
which this mo-urnful and frowning dispensation 
suggests. And, 

1. It suggests a decided and universal condem- 
Ration of a practice unreasonable, inhuman and 
impious, which hath torn from our embrace, so^ 
prematurely, a character of so much excellence. 

Let none imagine that when we feebly attempt 
to do some justice to the merit of the illustrious 
dead, that we mean to represent him without im- 
perfection ; or that we feel not high detestation at 
his acceptance of the bloody call. 

No one inherits human nature exempted frora 
the depravity and frailties to which it has beca 



£ 2' ] 

subjected. Hamilton had no doubt a share la 
both. But with respect to his conduct in civil 
acid in social life, we firmly believe that few men 
have discovered fewer blemishes. On a character 
so luminous his appear like the spots on the fair 
disk of the sun. They will, on examination, be 
found of that kind, in general, to which he was 
hurried under the strong impulse of benevolence 
and generosity, before reflection and conscience 
eould be summoned t© his aid. 

The most indefensible act, in his amiable life, 
is that by which he deliberately surrendered his 
life to the hand of lawless violence. As it was a 
measure which his heart and his conscience equal- 
ly abhorred, and his compliance may give acceler- 
ated force to an evil already at an alarming height, 
his offenoe becomes more aggravated. This 
crime is a violation of every law which actuates 
living existence, from the angel to the iniseet. It 
is a breach of the law of instinct, which involun- 
tarily impels every animal, simple and subtle, to 
seek self preservation. It is a breach of the law 
of reason, which engages us to resign life to none 
but its rightful owner. It is a breach of the law 
of revclaiion, which commands us to guard our 
lives as the image of God on earth, and which de- 
clares the unnecessary exposure of them as treason 
against the majesty of Heaven. 

Duelling has become the disgrace and scourge 
of that portion of the christian world that profess 
sacred regard to honor, for I blush while I must 
acknowledge that to them, of all the tribes of men, 
it is wholly confined. It is the hideous offspring of 
savage, Gothic pride, by blind and slavish super^ 
stition. It made its first appearance in the licen- 
tious camps of the credulous champions of the 
. cross, in the cruel and barbarous crusades. Then 



C 28 ] 

the haughty soldier fell prostrate in secret before 
a crucifix, and m public, for every supposed af- 
front, in contempt of him who dignified the cross^ 
insisted that he had a right to challenge his brother 
to combat, and call heaven to witness and guide the 
hand of malice and of pride. With the diffusion 
of light and of love in Europe it received a checkj^ 
%vith the growth of gospel infidelity it has revived 
with encreasing malignity. It has received gene- 
ral shelter among us since the war, and disgraces 
our national establishments. The very persons who 
ought to have exerted their influence in its punish- 
ment and extirpation, have become particularly 
enslaved by it. What dreadful ravages has it re« 
cently made in the endearments of social and do- 
mestic life. What Father who enjoys a brave and 
generous son, feels himself a moment secure from 
its attack ? What Mother, what Wife, what Maid, 
■who exults in the possession of manly excellence, 
whose heart is not kept in continual palpitation I 

The recent stroke, considered in all its circum- 
stances, I view as the awful voice of heaven in- 
censed at our nation. We have tamely left the 
destructive monster to stalk among us, we have 
dared to give him titles of honor. God in his 
wrath has permitted him to cut down the fairest 
ornament of our nation, and the ablest champion 
of our rights. Should insurrection raise her dis- 
organizing front, of which we cannot deny there 
are strong symptoms, whom shall she call to direct 
her strength, or to whose counsel, without sus- 
jpicion, will she listen ? I repeat the question. 
Who will answer ? 

Arouse ! law, justice, public sentiment and pub- 
lic indignation ! Let age and wisdom speak, let 
youth and inexperience listen* Let female influ* 



[ ^9 ] 

cnce, alwaj^s so persuasive, always so powciTiil, 
be employed on the side of humanity, and blast 
the hopes of the fool who would court with hands 
besmeared in innocent blood their esteem, or their 
silent approbation. Let the last words of Ha- 
milton to his country, let his dying regrets, let 
public grief melt your hearts; let his blood, unjust- 
ly shed, rouse America from her slumbers, and ex- 
cite her determined opposition. 

Many considerations might be urged in pallia- 
tion of ihis man's resolution. His nice and strong 
sense of honor, his long confirmed habits as a soU 
dier and statesman, his connexions in life, his pros- 
pects of public usefulness, the general and unhap- 
py sentiments of honor universally prevalent. Let 
them palliate, but justice must condemn. 

It has been said with confidence, that the chal- 
lenge might have been rejected without censure, 
nay, with accumulated honor and respect. I at 
first thought so. I appealed through experience 
to human nature. Her general conduct makes mc 
hesitate. 

I see no way that remained for him but to yield 
to this abominable custom, and try to preserve 
unsullied honor in the world's eye, or to renounce 
her censure and her praise when different from the 
approbation of God, and to have publicly embra- 
ced the Cross and the Savior, accounting with a 
very great man, all things else, when compared 
to the excellence of Christ, as loss ! loss ! 

2ndly. This frowning dispensation suggests 
the necessity of greater circumspection in the 
choice of those whom we raise to office, and greater 
delicacy in the manner of obtaining their election. 

No occurrence more atrocious than what now 
engages our thoughts has ever wounded our 



[ 30 ] 

national ear. What adds to the pain and danger, 
is, that the man who now fills the second place iiT 
our government has been the perpetrator of tliis 
nefarious deed. He who has been honoured with 
the confidence and voiceof the larger portion of our 
citizens, and whose duty it is to preserve the ho- 
nour of our country, has stained our national an-r 
Dais and character with a crime, that time cannot 
efface. Let shame cover us when we see the ma- 
gistrate descend from his chair, and in defiance of 
law insist on becoming accuser, judge and executi-. 
oner ; when we see that arm in which we confided for 
protection, employed in extinguishing the purest 
light that ever guided our councils, and destroy- 
ing in personal revenge, the most faithful guar- 
dian of our privileges! 

Decided political principles^ moral sensibi- 
lity and religious obligation^ ought never to be 
dispensed with in those whom we place in autho- 
rity, whatever mental endowments they may pos- 
sess. Infidelity, under gospel light, is always dange- 
rous, frequently destructiv^e. He who possesses not 
moral discernment to recognize the word and plans 
of God in the volume of Revelation, must labour 
imder some depravity of heart or deficiency in intel- 
lect. He who on scripture evidence refuses to give 
credit to God, deserves no credit from his country. 

Infidelity is the scourge as well as the sign of 
the present times. In private life it is either cold, 
or malicious, peevish, restless and inconsistent.. 
Dissatisfied alike with the appointmtcnts of heaven 
and the arrangements of men, novelty and change 
arc its divinities. When opposed it is more cru- 
el and insatiable than superstition, for it feels no 
restraint. When allowed to rule uncontroled, it 
changes till her own desolation fills her with con- 
sternation. France furnisjjes a national examplCo 



[ SI 3 

Sh€ has seen the round of reformation and changie, 
and now embraces despotism with as much ardor 
as she once overturned her throne. 

Fame paints the author of our grief as a practi- 
cal infidel, an infidel in theory. His cold cruelty^ 
his revenge, his contempt of all that is admired^ 
confirm the suspicion. Had I a voice that could 
reach and arguments to persuade, I would never 
cease to proclaim, O America ! avoid infidel rulers 
as you would avoid certain desolation. 

The manner in which, for some years, our elec^ 
tions have been conducted, merits national execra* 
tion. Parties range themselves in hostile array, 
and every candidate must run for the prize thro* 
these ranks, exposed, wounded and disgraced. 

The Printers' aid is also solicited. Like birds 
©f game, without malice and without provocation, 
they make sport to the public as their party prompts 
or supplies them with materials. By this practice 
our elective privileges are converted into a curse ; 
they pollute the public car, they wound personal 
and domestic peace, they, as in the present melan- 
choly case, excite to murder. *' O my soul, come 
" not thou into their secret, into their assembly my 
*' honor be thou not united. For in their anger 
*' they slew a man -, in their self-will they digged 
*' down a wall. Cursed be their anger, for it wasi 
*' fierce ; and their wrath, for it was cruel. I will 
*' divide them in Jacob and scatter them in Israel.'* 

Sdly. This mournful dispensation, accompanied 
with so many circumstances of distress, furnishes^ 
also one subject of gratitude and triumph to the 
pious and benevolent. 

The much lamented victim, on mature reflec» 
tion, after hearing all the arguments and all the 
scoffs of the infidel, after full acquaintance with all 



t 52 3 

Ms pleasures and all his expectations, deserted Ills 
gloomy camp, and in lowly submission enrolled 
his name among the disciples of the Savior* 

The dignity of his deportment in the dark val- 
ley of the shadow of death, his acceptance of the 
kingdom of God with the docility of the child, 
the exercises of his heart, marked with penitence, 
marked with trust, discover that his soul was no 
stranger to the sublime mysteries of the gospel, 
and that his affections felt their influence and ex- 
tent. He solicited no instructions, he labored 
under no doubt, his only request was for some 
cheering and sealing consolation to support his 
soul amidst the pangs of dissolution, and to aid its 
flight to regions of rest. 

This fairest and most durable feature in his cha- 
racter, 1 know will add nothing, with the world, to 
his reputation. I even foresee that when the pre- 
sent tide of grief subsides, many will reflect with 
disgust that lie died a believer. Acquaintance 
■with Christ casts down a man's dignity in the eye 
of the multitude. But their censure or their ap- 
plause can reach him no more. His fame rests on 
foundations too solid to be shaken, his merits are 
inscribed on pillars unperishable. His christian 
profession, his warm and unaffected piety, I fond- 
ly hope, may awaken thousands, and inspire the 
awakened with courage to avow their convictions— 
the convinced to receive the salvation of the Lord. 
What genius, what merits, what honours, what 
connexions, ought to keep back their possessor 
from embracing that cross with whichHAMiLTON 
was captivated, on which with all his powers ht 
leaned, at the foot of which, glorying in its vir- 
tues, he breathed out his soul to God. 

THE EKD. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



011 836 908 7 



